American Wine

No one really understood America.

Really, no one really got him. Sometimes, if people paid enough attention to him, which no one really ever did, they'd see Romano get a gleam in his eyes. Like he knew exactly was going on in America's head whenever America had one of his, erm, moments.

Like, when sometimes America screamed at the sky. Usually in great frustration, and something along the lines of, "HAVEN'T I DONE ENOUGH YOU BASTARDS?! WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

Or the strange one-sided phone calls America made, hushed and whispered and nervous. It was odd how America always jumped wildly in tension when Australia approached him, muttering about monsters and the smell of "koala" plants as he relaxed. Or the times they caught America talking to the mist in fountains, and chatting at rainbows. There of course was that time that America was seen scratching an almost monstrous cat behind the ears, cooing and calling it Mrs. O'Leary, and how it was such a good "puppy". America refused to wear purple or orange, often saying it would be unfair and that he couldn't show favoritism, which made no sense, and the young nation wouldn't take medicine, instead choosing to eat brownies the color of gold.

In short, America made no sense whatsoever. America was strange, illogical, and completely out of tune with the world.

This, France thought, made what he was experiencing even more unfair.

"Dude, you've been staring at your drink for a while. You okay?" France looked up at the young nation, and swirled the remaining wine in his glass, both in speculation and to kill time so he could formulate an answer. "You are a strange one Amérique," France mused, taking another sip from the crystal cup, "I would've tried harder to capture you as mon frère if I had known your talents for wine making."

"...Thank you...?" America shifted awkwardly in his seat, sipping from his (surprisingly reasonably sized) soda. "Uh, the use of the word "capture" is kinda creepy-"

"The bottle is unmarked," France interrupted, starring intently at the innocent half full bottle, dark emerald green with rich maroon luxury inside. The was no brand, and the cork was plain. And yet it was the best wine France had ever tasted, perfect richness, texture, aftertaste, even the color was beyond perfection. America didn't seem too bothered by it. "Uh, yeah. It was a, um. A-A gift."

"A...gift?"

"Yeah."

"From where?"

"California."

"Who gave it to you?"

"Ba- uh, a friend of mine. Winemaker. Has a vineyard." France's eyes narrowed at the hesitation, and the quick cut off of the actual name of the winemaker. "Interesting," The French nation said instead, his voice smooth.

"Yeah."

"I would like to meet your friend, Amérique-"

"He doesn't like people." America said instantly, eyes growing distant. France raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"He like leopards more than people. Goats like him, but he gets bored with them pretty quick," France's other eyebrow joined the first in bemusement, and was beginning to get concerned that America was befriending someone rather disturbed. "...Goats?"

"Oh, they worship him, but he'd rather be with his leopard. His name's Seymor."

"...He has a leopard?"

"Yeah. Well, his head anyway." America nodded his head thoughtfully, totally missing the seriously concerned, and possibly disgusted, look on France's face. "He's really good conversation, Seymor. Or so I've heard. I don't really understand him, since he's, you know, a leopard."

"..."

"So, you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"...England's birthday is coming up. I was wondering if you were getting him anything-"

"Dude, I had the best idea EVER! There'll be fireworks, and cake, and OH! Let's have a Pinata! So, for his present, I was thinking-Oh, hey man, you want another cup?" France stared at America evenly for a moment, before wordlessly holding out his wineglass, watching as the rich red wine flow out of the bottle like liquid gold. France sighed as he brought the glass back to his lips, listening to America's ramblings about what sounded like robots and Sherlock Holmes.

Yes, America was strange, and it was completely unfair that America had a crazy cat-obsessed man with the wine-making skills of Bacchus to make him wine, wine excellent enough for gods, despite that France was the country of wine, but France decided that it would be best to leave it.

After all, who could hope to understand America and all his peculiarities? Such as task was as impossible as the perfection of the wine that glided down France's throat.

*Eucalyptus trees: Trees native to Australia that koalas climb on. Koalas also eat the leaves. Monsters (dragons) in California like eucalyptus trees, and there are a lot of them in San Francisco where Mount Othrys is located.

*California is infamous for its wine and vineyards.

*Dionysus bought Seymor the leopard head from a poacher at a garage sale. And then did something horrible to the poacher, but no one really knows what.

*France at one point during its early history was conquered by Romans, so France would know the Roman gods instead of their Greek counterparts.